It’s dark outside where I am right now. Dark. Quiet. My husband is snoring gently beside me. My babies are tucked in snuggly across the hall (well, one of them’s a toddler so she could well have kicked every one of her blankets off onto the floor by now, and could be hanging halfway off of her toddler bed, but I’m not crazy enough to go in and check because if I wake her, she’ll hop up and beg to watch “Super Why”). This is the nice kind of darkness.
There is a cruel kind of darkness. The kind that saps your energy on a night when the baby is sick and all he wants is you; the kind that tries to devour you when you are laying in bed anxious with worry about the Santa’s-list-length codex of responsibilities that await you in the morning; the kind that slinks around waiting to envelop you when you miss someone so much, but you try to ignore the ache because you still have to function; the kind that whispers in your ear that you are weak, small, and worthless, that life is not worth living, that it will never get better, that happiness is a shoe that will never fit you even if you could afford to buy it.
That kind of darkness is cruel because it tries to make you forget what is real. Here is a little reminder: You are powerful. You are incredible. You are strong. You have flaws and faults, but so does every truly beautiful thing. You give so much of yourself. You empty out your cup each day to fill others. You are practically a force of nature. Hold on to what is real. Don’t let the darkness steal it from you. That darkness – that cruel darkness – is just jealous of your brilliance.
Light the Darkness,